


Warm You Up

by Anonymous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Dubious Consent, Hypothermia, M/M, Medical Kink, Restraints, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:54:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Poor bedraggled Will is found sleepwalking outside Hannibal's house in the middle of January.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's no rape in this fic but lots of barely conscious Will being manhandled, so I wanted to make sure people know to avoid it if this would be triggering.

Will opened his eyes.

He was on his side, staring dully at a white linen pillowcase.

Something bulky and warm was tucked up tight behind him, and with another slow blink he realized it was a person.

A solid body was blanketing him, chest pressed against Will's back, their bodies aligned along the calf, the knee, the thigh. An arm was tight across his chest. So close that he was pretty sure they could both feel the gentle gurgling of his stomach.

There was a hardness resting between his legs. Nipples pushing against his back. A face in his neck, worrying the thin skin gently with his teeth.

Will opened his mouth to speak but found he had no voice.

A broad palm settled over his eyes, urging them closed. "Sleep, William."

He relaxed into the rocking of slow breaths, feeling the faint flutter of each exhale past his ear.

Will slept.

-

He was on his back the next time he opened his eyes. He squirmed a little and found himself no closer to freedom.

He was swaddled up in the sheets, he realized. They were tucked and wrapped in such a way that they wouldn't come loose no matter how much he tried to shift. His arms were pinned at his side, his legs bound together.

"Awake again?"

Will was lifted by competent hands, rolled over onto his side. The sheets around his lower half were untucked, baring his backside. Will realized he was naked and moaned, softly. Being exposed immediately caused him to be wracked with shivering.

"Hush, my good boy." His buttocks were smoothly parted, then something hard and thin was pressed up into his anus. Will's jaw dropped open at the sensation. It couldn't possibly be as big as it felt inside him. He was just oversensitive from exposure, his whole body aching and sore.

His thighs were bound back up in the sheets, squeezing him tight around the thermometer.

"Just rest, now," said Hannibal. A heavy palm landed on his head, stroking his hair.

Will faded out again.

-

Will woke up surrounded by water. His head was carefully placed on the rim of the bathtub, a rolled towel under his neck. Hannibal was kneeling next to the tub, his shirt sleeves rolled up, humming under his breath. He was scrubbing Will's muddy calves, pressing hard to cleanse Will of the dirt and sweat he’d accumulated in his nighttime wanderings. 

Will was naked, his legs were spread wide, exposing all of him to Hannibal. Will squeaked, the most sound he could muster, attracting Hannibal’s attention.

"Not just yet, my dear," hummed Hannibal, draping a warm, wet washcloth over his eyes. It pressed and sealed his eyelids shut, blinding him.

Hannibal moved down to his feet.

-

Will was conscious as he was lifted bodily from the bath - Hannibal must have been far stronger than he looked - and tenderly dried with a warm towel. Hannibal eased his uncooperative limbs into plaid flannel pajamas, and pulled wool socks onto his feet.

He was carried into the sitting room and placed on the sofa, half-sitting up with the aid of many cushions. Another blanket was produced and applied.

Then Hannibal’s hand was on his jaw, peeling his mouth open, sliding something plastic inside. Will moaned but suckled instinctively, tasting something warm and sweet. Hannibal was feeding him, his hand curled under Will’s chin, keeping his mouth closed around what Will was pretty sure was a turkey baster.

Will was full before Hannibal was satisfied. He managed a soft whine, trying to turn his head, but Hannibal didn't allow it. Instead he stroked Will's cheek and rubbed his throat, coaxing him to swallow a little more in spite of himself. 

Finally he withdrew the pipette, wiping Will’s mouth with a cloth napkin.

"I know you're awake, William."

Will was too tired to open his eyes. "Mn."

"It is 6:52 AM in Baltimore, Maryland. You were found walking outside my house early this morning, dressed in only your underclothes. I debated calling an ambulance but your internal temperature was not yet critical."

Will felt his cheeks flush, both at the knowledge that he was walking in his "underclothes" - read, ratty boxer-briefs - and at the memory of how Hannibal measured his _internal temperature_.

"You will stay here until I'm satisfied your health has not been adversely affected, so that I can continue to administer treatment as necessary."

Will nodded shortly, hardly in any position to argue. He sighed as Hannibal guided him to lie back all the way flat, a palm resting on Will's forehead briefly before carding through his hair.

As much as he hated to admit it, with his physical symptoms getting worse and his mental state deteriorating, Will knew he desperately needed to be under supervision.

And there was no place safer than in the care of Doctor Lecter.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“William, I’m concerned about the quality of your sleep,” said Hannibal.

He had already coaxed Will into taking some unmarked white pill, going so far as to place it under Will’s tongue himself, while Will flushed all over in shame. Nonetheless he’d docilely held his mouth open. He wouldn’t forget the brush of Hannibal’s elegant fingers against the back of his teeth.

“When was the last time you got a full night’s uninterrupted rest?”

Whatever Hannibal had given him had taken affect very quickly. Will was struggling to keep his eyelids above half-mast. "Years," he said, too worn out to lie.

Hannibal pursed his lips in disapproval. "I may have a solution," he said at last. "It has proven effective in clinical trials. And ... I think you may enjoy it."

"I think at ... at this point - I'd try anything," slurred Will. After all, his own last attempt at a good night's sleep had sent him wandering out into a blizzard.

"Good man," said Hannibal warmly. Will suppressed a burst of pleasure. When he was semiconscious Hannibal had been more effusive with his praise – Will shuddered in needy revulsion at the memory of his tender tones, as those gentle hands moved in his hair and over his back and between his thighs - the soft endearments dripping from his lips like honey. Will had to work hard not to want desperately to still be Hannibal’s “dear” and most especially – most terribly – his “good boy.”

Hannibal was a doctor. Will was, at least for now, his patient. Not his good boy.

"Well since you are amenable, and the timing propitious, then by all means let us retire to the bedroom, and we shall try a new approach, hmm?"

It took both of them working together to get Will to his feet, where he swayed like a drunkard. Solicitous, Hannibal kept an arm under his elbow, guiding him - and perhaps also enjoying having him close. Will thought he should probably shake him off, but he found himself leaning in instead. Hannibal was warm and smelled of cloves.

The stairs were a challenge but they took it slow, and eventually arrived in Hannibal's immaculate guest room. It was well appointed, the kind of bland good taste that you'd get in a luxurious hotel. Compared to the rest of the house the décor was undemanding. It was mostly taken up with a massive bed.

"Please get undressed," said Hannibal composedly. "Down to your underclothes would be best."

Will hesitated, but Hannibal had already seen all of him from top to ... bottom. Everything he was wearing was Hannibal's anyway, and he'd been dressed by the other man's own hands. There was nothing left to be ashamed of now.

Slowly, he did as instructed. He thought it might be sensual, but Hannibal merely surveyed him with clinical interest, his gaze mostly drawn to Will’s concave abdomen.

"You know you are underweight, William," he said.

"One problem at a time," said Will, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Hannibal nodded and moved to the drawer of the bedside dresser. "This is what I wanted to show you," he announced, lifting out a large roll of fabric that was covered in an odd brick-like pattern. It almost looked like beanbags had been sewn into the lining. "And these." He held up what appeared to be a folded pile of canvass. "I brought them home from the clinic with you in mind."

Will blinked at them, uncomprehending.

"You see, it is a weighted blanket, designed to exert equal pressure all over your body. Some people report the sensation is very calming."

"And what are those other things?"

Hannibal cleared his throat. "I suspect you will sleep better in full restraints." He unfolded one of the canvass squares, which revealed itself to be a collection of wide canvass straps and buckles. 

Will knew his eyes were huge. "If you want to tie me up, we don’t need to pretend it’s medicinal," he said.

"I assure you, this is a legitimate treatment," said Hannibal dryly. It was the closest Will had come to acknowledging the tension between them, and he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed that Hannibal hadn’t take the bait. He forbid himself from thinking about it.

"You see, these are designed to be soft and comfortable," said Hannibal, showing him the material. "And will complement the experience of the blanket. In this way, you will learn to sleep without thrashing, and you certainly won’t have to worry about any further spells of somnambulism tonight."

"But I won't be able to ... move," said Will doubtfully. "What if I want to roll over, or itch my nose? What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

"I’ll be right here," said Hannibal. "I can release you at a word. Can we give it a try? If you don’t like it, you have only to say so and we will try something else."

Will wanted to say no. He had been more than vulnerable enough already, in the past 48 hours ... far more than he had ever been in his life, or ever hoped to be again. He had been carried to the bathtub and bathed, for heaven's sake. He couldn't imagine allowing himself to be rendered completely helpless now.

Hannibal had been stripping the bed down to the white sheets while Will stood silent. Now he put a hand on Will's bare shoulder and squeezed. "Will. You need a good rest. Lie down."

Slowly Will obeyed. He heard Hannibal setting everything up, closing his eyes as the mattress shifted.

"Just relax for me, William. It's alright, I'm here. Are you ready to start?"

As he spoke, Hannibal guided Will’s hand down to rest at his side. Then he paused, cradling Will’s wrist, and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Will sighed in resignation. "Do it," he said.

Hannibal moved swiftly, slipping the soft cuffs over Will’s wrists and ankles and tugging the restraints tight. Will gasped a little at the strange sensation – he was embarrassed that the ankle straps kept his legs slightly spread. They were wide, comfortable enough - Hannibal had the perfect level of tension.

He knew he was trembling – knew Hannibal could feel it too. It felt like he'd been admitted to the psych ward. He closed his eyes desperately, refusing to acknowledge it, pulling futilely at the wide restraints.

For a moment the dizzying fear plus whatever Hannibal had given him made him nauseous.

A heavy hand dropped down on his forehead, ceasing his tossing and turning. "Clear your mind and try to relax," said Hannibal, gently pressing his head down against the pillows. "Alright? I am right here. I will not allow anything to happen to you."

"Nuh," muttered Will, still tugging against his bonds.

He had a sudden, sharp flash of an image; Hannibal kneeling over him while he was restrained like this, guiding his mouth open the way he did when he was feeding Will from the turkey baster; but this time it was his cock that he pushed into Will’s mouth. He pictured moaning, muffled and helpless, with the wet crown of Hannibal’s thick cock rubbing over his tongue, slipping down his throat …

"William?"

Will groaned and shifted, but he'd stopped fighting against the straps. He lay still, panting slightly.

Hannibal hummed. "Now, my dear. I think you will like this."

The blanket was smoothed over Will’s prone body, starting at his feet, then over his hips, his belly, his chest. As Hannibal said, it was far heavier than a normal blanket – it was almost suffocating, but in the best possible way.

Will groaned. The light constraint at his pressure points – wrists and ankles – only added to the sensation of the blanket. So did being forced to lie flat to receive it, unable to shift away from feeling _everything_. He heard himself sigh in satisfaction, his jaw going lax.

Hannibal’s finger stroked over his cheek. “Yes?” He sounded distinctly amused.

"Hnnng," Will slurred. His lips smacked noisily.

"My good boy," soothed Hannibal, stroking his hair. Will felt drugged. He could hardly _move_.

"If this method does not prove sufficient, we can also try a prostrate position," said Hannibal calmly. "Would you like that, Will?"

Will pictured himself pinned on his belly, with the comforting weight spread over his back. He would hardly be able to breathe, pressed into the mattress like that. It might be like having Hannibal himself, lying flat on top of him - his knee between Will's, his teeth at the back of Will's neck. 

He sobbed and nodded.

"Well, let us fully test this technique first, in the interest of science," said Hannibal. His thumb smoothed down Will's eyebrows, one after another. Then it moved in slow circles over his forehead. Finally a hand came to rest over Will's eyes, ensuring they remained closed.

"Goodnight, sweet boy."

The thumb stroked over his lips, the last piece of pressure he needed. Will touched the tip of his tongue to the salty pad of Hannibal's finger - then sank like a stone into 14 hours of dreamless, bottomless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not leave a comment that is only a request for more. I may add one last chapter eventually but I always try to end somewhere that feels "done" ... we all love 30-plus chapters of slow-burn character development, but not every story needs to be that, and not all writers want to labor for years to produce free novels. I'd rather get no comments at all than 20 comments that just say MOAR NOW.


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